


Ritual

by SamGirlDeanCurious



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 22:50:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2524595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamGirlDeanCurious/pseuds/SamGirlDeanCurious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Castiel finish the demon-curing ritual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ritual

**Author's Note:**

> This one was inspired by 10.03, Soul Survivor. I absolutely loved the episode, every minute, but I wanted a bit more flare with the end of the ritual. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Unbeta'd, unless you count my husband, who is awesome and indulges me in my fandom obsession.
> 
> ***I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters, and am definitely not making any money on any of this.

The ritual ends with Latin and blue fire. Sam’s voice dropped to a whisper on the final phrase, so intent was he on watching the effects of his words on Dean. Sam’s hands shook, and the paper shivered in his fingers. It had to work; there was no other option. Sam felt like he would fucking die if he couldn’t fix this. Dean - no, not Dean - that demon had asked him if he was strong enough, would he finish it if he couldn’t bring back his brother; Sam knew he wasn’t, and the demon knew he couldn’t. But that wasn’t even the worst of the issue. The real problem was not only that Sam couldn’t do it himself, no the bigger issue was that Sam was so weak he wouldn’t let Cas do it either. He’d stop him. No matter that this thing in front of him wasn’t really his brother and had done unspeakable things, there was enough of Dean left that Sam wouldn’t be able to let him go. And then Sam really would die, because his brother the demon would kill him and it wouldn’t be quick. It would be slow and it would hurt - he could see the violent promise in the demon’s eyes.  
  
Sam shook his head so he didn’t descend into the mania that would have him tearing his hair out in seconds.  
  
Castiel watched Sam, wondering why he was shaking his head. Humans were so odd at times. He turned away to watch Dean, already planning his attack strategy for if the ritual did not work. Castiel understood the brothers; he understood that they were incapable of letting each other go regardless of the harm they caused the world and themselves. They had never had a different calling, no purpose in life other than each other, so the together they made sense, even if they weren’t what most humans or angels, or even demons come to think of it, termed “a healthy relationship.” Cas had served Heaven before he joined the Winchester ranks. He would still have a place in a world without Dean, even if it was somewhat out of order. Sam could not say the same. Cas thought about Dean, how much Dean had taught him, and how much he cared about both of these broken, beautiful humans. Then he readied himself to take Sam out first if need be.  
  
The blue flames ran up Dean’s body, licking his skin from boots to roots, burning out as soon as they reached his hair. He snarled in shock and anger, the inhuman sound echoing around the basement, but he was undamaged - his skin, hair, and clothes all intact. Anger and onyx exploded into Dean’s eyes, and he looked at the angel and man standing in front of him. Nothing else happened.  
  
Dean began to smile, to laugh viciously because their precious ritual, their last hope hadn’t worked and he was going to let Sam have all of the ugly words he had been saving for this moment inside him; he would break Sam from this chair without even touching him, without even being fucking untied. Dean’s smile was horrible in its cruelty for just an instant, and Sam was viscerally afraid of his brother for the first time ever. Sam realized that Dean would truly kill him and enjoy it.  
  
Dean’s smile froze and grew brittle as though his face would crack off onto the floor. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in shock, but nothing came out. Then, like water boiling out of a pot, a feral roar poured from inside of Dean that grew louder and louder and wasn’t at all like Dean. Behind the scream was so much fury, so much hatred and malice that Sam’s bones vibrated against each other and he wanted to drop to the floor and curl up in a ball. He wanted to grab Dean and scream at him to make it stop. It occurred to Sam that he was listening to Hell through his brother’s mouth.  
  
The sound was so shocking and violent that both Sam and Cas fell back a step. It went on and on and on until their jaws were clenched so tightly it felt like they’d cracked all their teeth, and they had to stop themselves from covering their ears in agony. If Dean had to experience it, then they owed him enough to listen to his fight and his pain. No longer did Sam and Cas have any question about whether Dean was still human. No human on Earth could ever have made that sound.  
  
The noise choked off when Dean’s head wrenched back at an odd, impossible angle that made all the cords and veins in his neck stand out. It was as though some unseen hand wrapped itself in his hair and pulled his head back far enough to almost crack his spine. Dean’s body went rigid, his arms pulling against the chains that held him to the chair so hard Sam thought he might rip the armrests off or dislocate his elbows trying. Dean’s head rolled in bizarre and frightening ways on his shoulders, jaws working, every muscle in his body tense and struggling against his restraints. He snarled and howled while thrashing around.  
  
Castiel and Sam watched in horror, bodies tight, fists clenched at their sides while their best friend and brother struggled not to be torn to pieces. Finally everything stopped. Dean’s frame relaxed, and his head hung loosely from his shoulders while he gasped for air. Dean’s muscles quieted, hands relaxed their grip on the chair, knees fell open to the sides, and his shoulders visibly dropped. Soon, even his breathing slowed and seemed to stop. Sam held his breath, praying that it was finally over. Slowly, Dean raised his head, eyes still ink black as he looked at both Sam and Cas with such hatred and pain that Sam wondered for an instant if they made the wrong decision, if they had just murdered his brother.  
  
Suddenly, Dean let out a sob. Tears began to slide from his eyes, each one black and oily as obsidian leaving a trail like run mascara down his face before dropping to the floor. Dean broke in front of them and cried, really cried for the first time since the night Sam left him for Stanford. As each tear left Dean’s eyes, the blackness slowly drained away from Dean’s eyes, making a dark pool under his boots.  
  
As Dean’s breathing slowed, his head drooped again. Cas and Sam looked at each other, and Cas gave him a slight nod. Sam put his lips together in a tight, non-smile and took a deep breath. He walked forward into the devil’s trap on the floor.  
  
“Dean?” Sam asked, slowly approaching and reaching with his good arm for his brother’s shoulder. Sam’s fingers tentatively brushed Dean’s back.  
  
At Sam’s touch, Dean lifted his head and looked at Sam. Dean’s green eyes were glazed with pain and confusion, but they were the only ones looking out at Sam. He drew his eyebrows in with confusion, his voice grating and sharp, like the Impala when she gets low on oil.  
  
“Sammy?”


End file.
